


go get dead, angel face

by CallicoKitten



Series: but i've been thinking of you fondly for sure [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mick's ongoing "fuck i have feelings" crisis, and all the hugs, and post camelot, ray needs all the therapy, set post land of the lost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 10:05:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10242203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: "This is becoming a problem," Ghost-Len says, like Mick is somehow unaware of the several different levels of fucked he is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> definitely a sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8352358)
> 
> title is from a video game called night in the woods which y'all should all play

Mick finds Rip in his old office, there's a book spread open on the desk in front of him but he's not reading it, not unless he's somehow figured out a way to see through his fingers that is. For a few moments, Mick just stares, beer in hand at _Captain_ Hunter. Not his Captain. Never really his Captain.

Blondie he'll follow. She gets him. Gets the team. She'd go to hell and back for any one of them. Rip he's not so sure about. Maybe he's different now, but a few brain-washes ago he would have sold anyone of them down the river for his family. Mick's known guys like that. Hell, Mick's _been_ a guy like that. He'd sell anyone out for Lenny, for Lisa.

Mick's probably _still_ a guy like that but Mick's definitely not advocating anyone put their trust him.

_Whatever._

He slams into the office and Hunter jumps, hands reaching for a weapon he's not gonna find, blinking hazily. Mick gets it. Having someone play around in your subconscious, rearrange shit and erase other shit and build you into whoever they want you to be is a _headfuck._

(He's not gonna  pretend his skin didn't come over all crawly when they attached those probes to Rip's head,  Mick wakes up sometimes with ghost-probes around his temples.)

"You sent Haircut to the Cretaceous," he starts with.

Rip stares, "I - what?"

"When you scattered us across _time_ or whatever the hell you called it. You sent Jax and the Professor to Medieval England and Blondie to Salem and you sent Haircut to the _Cretaceous._ "

"I - " Rip's still staring, he swallows slowly. "I can assure you, Mr Rory, the destinations were entirely randomised. I had no control over where - "

"He was there six months, _Captain._ Alone."

Rip actually looks kind of hurt by that. "I - I'm sorry, Mr Rory. I really didn't mean to - "

And Mick doesn't really want to hear it. He didn't want Rip all limp-looking and defeated, all pale skin and dark circles and genuine _hurt_ on his stupid face. "You're lucky everyone else likes you," Mick growls.

He stomps out, leaves Rip staring after him.

Ghost-Len is waiting outside, arms crossed. "That was clever," he says, pushing off the wall to trail after Mick through the corridors.

"Didn't ask for your opinion," Mick mutters.

"Didn't have to," Ghost-Len says, lightning-fast. "I look out for you, Mick. That's what I do, that's what I've always done. That's my _job_ and you just went in there and bared your throat, showed your weakness, the chink in your armour and for _what_? An idiot with some fancy toys and a death-wish."

Mick laughs at that, dark and raw, "You talking about Haircut or yourself now, Lenny?"

Ghost-Len's permanent sneer flickers.

"Mr Rory?" Stein peers out of a nearby doorway, looking slightly concerned. "Were you talking to someone?"

Mick sighs, "No, Professor."

And Stein doesn't believe him but Stein would probably rather involve himself in the problems of _anyone_ else in existence so he doesn't push it.

"You seen Haircut?"

"Ah, yes," Stein says, looking relieved. "I believe he's in the kitchen."

Makes sense. Ray likes to be doing something when he's down and there ain't much to be done around here right now.

"Thanks Professor."

-

Ray's mumbling to himself when Mick gets there. Something low, too quiet for Mick to hear over and over and over. He was like this for a while after the first time they made an unscheduled stop off in Jurassic Park, only that time he was more spun out, more jittery, more _I just spent six months alone with only dinosaurs for company._

He should've gone with them, Mick thinks. Pretty can't see past his own stupid shit and Amaya's more of a tough-love kinda gal, Mick thinks. Besides, Ray could probably go toe-to-toe with Mick with his ability to pretend nothing's wrong. Hell, Ray's probably so good at it he's convinced _himself_ nothing's wrong, even if most of the team have caught on to _something._

(Like after Camelot when Pretty stomped into Mick and Sara's post-mission drinks and asked whether they were ever going to talk about what the hell happened with Ray back there because, bless him, he still hasn't figured out that Ray's unconscious desire to die bloody is as much a part of him as his irritating optimism.)

"What's that Haircut?" Mick says and Ray jumps, drops the oven-gloves he's fidgeting with.

" _Mick_ ," he says, bending to pick up the gloves. "I thought we talked about creeping up on people."

Mick thuds his boots on the floor, "Wasn't exactly creeping, Haircut. You were just somewhere else. Anyway, I asked what you were saying."

"Oh," Ray says, he looks away briefly. "I was just - you know what, it was nothing." He turns back to the oven. "You want a muffin, Mick? They're almost done. They're - "

"Lemme guess," Mick says, stepping into the kitchen to lean on the counter. "Gluten-free? Which means they ain't worth eating."

Ray's face falls as he sets the tray down. "Well, they taste the same if you'd just - "

Mick shakes his head. "I want a muffin I'll get Gideon to fabricate me one." But he snatches one of Ray's up and unwraps it as Ray slides the gloves off, anyway. "Anyway, you doin' okay?"

Ray glances over at him, "Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

Mick sighs pointedly.

Ray winces. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine, Mick. I mean, I had Nate and Amaya with me so I wasn't alone and I knew I wouldn't be there long so - " he trails off. Mick waits for it.

"But yeah," Ray says, eventually, wrapping his arms almost unconsciously around himself. "It was - uh - kind of weird. I didn't think it would be." His gaze is fixed on the floor. He smiles, self-depreciatingly. "That's stupid, isn't it?"

Mick really regrets not at least breaking Hunter's face. There's still time, he supposes and it's not like Gideon couldn't fix it easy. Not like this. This is gonna fuck Ray up for a lot longer than a broken nose would.

Mick takes a few steps towards him, "You were there six months, Haircut. Alone. I've been in solitary before - "

"But that's different," Ray interrupts, quickly. "I mean, I had freedom, at least, and sunlight and plants and good stuff, Mick and I - "

"I had an end date," Mick says and Ray stutters to a halt. "And I didn't have to worry about a seven-hundred foot lizard with 6,000 teeth trying to eat me while I slept." He's closer now, close enough that he can reach out and grip Ray by the hips, pull him close so they're pressed together. Ray stiffens for a moment before he relaxes into Mick's hold.

"Yeah," he says, quietly, his eyes flutter shut and he lets his head drop to rest on Mick's shoulder. "Yeah, I guess. But you know, Mick, they really weren't _that_ big, I mean the amount of food it would take to fuel something that big is just - "

"Haircut," Mick says. "Don't ruin this."

"Sorry," Ray mumbles.

-

He lets Ray bunk with him that night. It's not _that_ unusual, Ray's in his room more often than not these days it's just usually Mick at least has the self respect to kick him out after.

Ray's curled up on his side while Mick watches his chest rise and fall. Usually, Ray's a sprawler, got the wing-span of an albatross or maybe one of the Hawks when he wants to but after days like this he curls up, tries to make himself as small as possible in the sheets.

The bruise he got from his stupid one-man charge is still fading and _god,_ when Mick gets his hands on the fuck who did that.

(He dragged his teeth over it the evening after, after Pretty had marched Ray into the med-bay and made Gideon scan him to check for breaks or internal bleeding or any of the things Ray doesn't seem capable of thinking about when he's making decisions - dragging his teeth over it and making Ray hiss, making Ray arch.

"Don't you fucking do this again," Mick had said, gripped Ray's hips hard, dragged blunt nails across his back, "Don't you fucking _dare._ You don't have the right anymore, you got that? _You got that_?"

And Ray had been pitching and moaning and _yeah, Mick, yeah, yeah, yeah, **fuck.**_

And then he'd said, "You know, Damien Dahrk held me prisoner for a few months after I accidentally blew my suit up," And Mick _just_ \- )

"This is becoming a problem," Ghost-Len says, like Mick is somehow unaware of the several different levels of fucked he is.

"Of all the problems I'm currently experiencing I think Haircut's probably pretty far down the list," Mick says. He looks over at Ghost-Len. Ghost-Len's watching, always watching. Mick's thought about telling Ray but there's every chance he'll make a thing of it and end up convincing Sara to take him to see Freud or something.

Then again, there's every chance Ray'll reveal he has his own Ghost-Len following him about. That'd be fun.

"He makes you _weak,_ Mick," Ghost-Len says.

Mick hums, takes a swig of beer. "You were singing a different tune before you died."

"Well _exactly._ I _died,_ Mick. You wanna end up like me?"

Mick sighs. "I've _been_ you Len," Mick says, thinking back to the Time Masters, to being Chronos. "I like this much better."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still trying to kick writers block so if you have any ideas for short fics/drabbles please come yell them at me on [tumblr](http://callicokitten.tumblr.com/)


End file.
